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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628431">yours to keep, yours to lose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13'>arysa13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cheating, Exes, F/M, Humor, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Smut, erotic mini golf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:48:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke broke up with Bellamy six years ago, because she thought his possessiveness was unhealthy. She thinks she’s happy with her new man, Finn, until Bellamy comes hurtling back into her life in the most unexpected way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>553</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>yours to keep, yours to lose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_Needs_Reality/gifts">Who_Needs_Reality</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for meha, who said fuck feminism, and who also knows flattery and persistence gets shit done &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke’s fiancé is cheating on her.</p>
<p>It’s the most simple and obvious explanation, and Clarke has found that the most simple and obvious explanation is usually the right one. No point trying to work out convoluted, nonsensical alternatives when the truth is right in front of her face. Even if those alternatives would save her a lot of heartbreak. And a lot of money.</p>
<p>Still, Clarke has always confronted her problems face on, and she’s not about to bury her head in the sand just because she doesn’t want to lose the deposits on the wedding venue, and the cake, and the caterer. Not to mention the eight-thousand-dollar dress hidden away in her mother’s closet where Finn can’t see it.</p>
<p>But those things are irrelevant now. She’s not going to marry a cheater. Still, she can’t accuse him of it without having proof, or he’ll just deny it. Call her crazy. He’s called her that before.</p>
<p>Finn is “working late” for the umpteenth time in a row. He hasn’t been home on time once in the last two weeks, leaving Clarke to cook for herself every night when they usually take in turns. He knows she’s angry, but his weak excuses are always about wanting to make his articles better. He’s been working for this outdoor magazine for a year, and <em>now</em> he suddenly cares about the quality of his work?</p>
<p>And now he’s messaged her to tell her that not only is he working late <em>again </em>tonight, but he’s probably going to have to go in tomorrow as well, Saturday, sabotaging their plan of a romantic weekend away to go wine tasting. Clarke had suspected Finn wasn’t all that interested in the wine tasting, but she thought he’d be lured by the promise of lots of sex, since they have barely touched each other in the past two weeks. But he wouldn’t be, would he, if he was getting plenty of sex from someone else?</p>
<p>Clarke has the perfect plan to catch him in the act. Under the guise of being a loving, attentive fiancée, she’s going to bring him dinner to his office. Either he’s there, fucking one of his co-workers, and Clarke can catch them in the act, or he’s not there, and he’ll be forced to come up with another lie, which he’s sure to fail at. Finn has never been good at thinking on his feet.</p>
<p>She doesn’t bother changing out of her ratty, stretched out leggings and stained t-shirt before she goes. Or putting on a bra, or make-up, or doing her hair. Maybe it would have more of an effect if she showed up looking like a wet dream, making him realise what an idiot he’s been. But she’s done putting in effort for that cheating scum, so she’s going for the unhinged, mess-of-a-woman look instead. She hopes she strikes fear in his heart when she catches him with his dick inside some other woman’s pussy.</p>
<p>His car is in his usual spot in the parking garage around the corner from where he works. It means nothing. He could have gotten a lift somewhere with his whore, or they could be fucking right there in the office. She’s so worked up at this point she’s forgotten not to refer to this hypothetical woman as a whore, even in her mind.</p>
<p>She takes the elevator up to the third floor, Tupperware container filled with fettucine carbonara in hand, prepared for the worst. She’s already drafted her angry, self-righteous speech in her head, and she’s almost excited to give it to him. To see the look of utter shock and remorse in his eyes when he realises he’s not as slick as he thinks he is.</p>
<p>The lights are all still on when Clarke steps out of the elevator, but the open plan office is empty, aside from Finn’s desk. Clarke deflates, viscous accusations dying on her tongue. He’s alone, hunched over his computer, squinting at the screen like he’s trying to solve a difficult equation.</p>
<p>Clarke sighs, padding over to his desk. She may as well actually give him the food, since it appears he’s not actually cheating on her. Not tonight anyway. Is it odd that she almost feels… disappointed?</p>
<p>He looks up as she approaches, his frown morphing into a look of mild surprise.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” he says. “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>She hands over the container. “Brought you some dinner. You’ve eaten nothing but KFC and pizza all week.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he smiles gratefully, popping the lid. Clarke hands him the fork she brought with her and he digs in. Clarke wheels over the chair from the nearest desk and makes herself comfortable beside him. Her eyes catch the framed engagement picture of the two of them, next to his computer, and she feels a tug of guilt for believing he was cheating on her.</p>
<p>“Do you really have to work tomorrow?” Clarke says, trying not to sound like the nagging wife. It’s too early for them to be at that stage.</p>
<p>Finn pulls a face as he twirls fettucine around his fork. “Sorry,” he says, shovelling pasta into his mouth. “I’ve got stuff that needs to be done by Monday.”</p>
<p>“I don’t get it,” Clarke complains. “Why are you all of a sudden having to work late and weekends?”</p>
<p>“I told you,” Finn frowns. “Mr Kane retired. New boss. He’s young but he’s really good.”</p>
<p>Had he told her that? Clarke doesn’t remember. Then again, she doesn’t listen to a lot of what Finn says. He tends to go on about things she doesn’t care about. “But he’s making you work so much more.”</p>
<p>“It’s a good thing,” Finn assures her. “I think he sees potential in me. I’m like his protégée. He thinks I can improve, so he gives me a lot of helpful notes.”</p>
<p>“And you can’t work on these notes at home?” She sounds pissy, she knows that. But she <em>is </em>pissy.</p>
<p>“He says home and work life should be separate,” Finn shrugs. Clarke pouts. Finn shovels the last of the carbonara into his mouth.</p>
<p>“Maybe I should go and talk to him,” Clarke says. “Let him know you have a fiancée at home waiting for you and you shouldn’t be spending so much time at work.”</p>
<p>“Clarke, please,” Finn groans. “Don’t embarrass me. He knows I have a fiancée. I don’t need you barging in there, fighting my battles for me. He’ll think I’m a pussy.”</p>
<p>Clarke snorts. “Fine.” It’s not fine. She glances over to the closed office door at the back of the room. The assistant’s desk in front of it sits unoccupied. It wouldn’t be hard to slip in and have a polite word with the new boss. Convince him to give her fiancé a break.</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” Finn says, picking up his jacket and his laptop.</p>
<p>“I need to use the bathroom,” Clarke says quickly. “I’ll see you at home.”</p>
<p>Finn rolls his eyes, heading for the elevator. Clarke makes for the bathroom, in case he turns around, changing course as soon as the elevator doors are closed behind him. She scurries over to the boss’s office. She doesn’t knock. She wants the element of surprise on her side.</p>
<p>Except, when she opens the door, <em>she’s </em>the one who’s surprised. He looks up immediately, and their eyes meet. Clarke’s stomach plummets to the floor.</p>
<p>“Bellamy?” she squeaks.</p>
<p>He doesn’t look surprised in the least. It’s like he was expecting her. “Clarke,” he says. Goosebumps erupt on her skin at the sound of his voice. She hates that her body still reacts to him, even after six years.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?” she manages to get out, without sounding as overwhelmed as she feels.</p>
<p>“I work here,” he says. His eyes flick over her. Clarke is suddenly very aware of her unattractive appearance. Could she have possibly worn anything <em>less </em>sexy to run into her ex in?</p>
<p>Not that she wants him to find her attractive. But if moving on after a break up is a game, she definitely looks like she’s losing. The whole outfit screams celibacy, from the greasy, unbrushed state of her hair, to the visible panty-line of her enormous underwear through her seen-better-days leggings. She never would’ve worn underwear like this when she was dating Bellamy—back then it was all lacy thongs, or nothing at all, if he suggested it. She flushes at the memory, glad he can’t read her thoughts.</p>
<p>The one consolation is the diamond ring on her left hand, the size of which is nothing to be scoffed at. She makes sure it’s on full display as she crosses her arms across her chest, trying to disguise the fact that she’s not wearing a bra.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?” Bellamy asks her.</p>
<p>“My fiancé works here,” she says.</p>
<p>“I know. What are you doing in my office?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean you <em>know</em>? Are you stalking me? Is that why you’ve got this job?”</p>
<p>He stands, and Clarke follows his every movement with her eyes, feeling a little faint. She’d forgotten how good looking he is. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, revealing his strong, brown forearms. His curly hair is a little longer than when she left him, but everything else is the same. The smattering of freckles across his face that she knows spread all over his body. His soft, full lips, that have touched every inch of her skin. She resists the urge to fan herself, the room seemingly hotter all of a sudden.</p>
<p>“I got this job because Marcus Kane thought I was the best fit. I didn’t know your fiancé worked here when I took it.”</p>
<p>“Then how do you—” she cuts herself off, the answer coming to her midsentence. “The photo on his desk,” she realises.</p>
<p>“So—what is it you came to see me about?”</p>
<p>Clarke lifts her chin. “Give Finn the day off tomorrow. It’s Saturday, we already had something planned—”</p>
<p>“Ah, your little romantic getaway, right? Finn told me about it. Well, he complained about it.”</p>
<p>“He did not.”</p>
<p>“He’s not a huge fan of wine. Although he was looking forward to the five-star hotel room with his beautiful fiancée.” Bellamy’s eyes rake over her again, leaving her feeling more self-conscious. “It would be a shame to miss out on all—<em>that</em>.”</p>
<p>Clarke can’t tell if he’s mocking her or hitting on her, so she ignores his tone entirely. “So you’ll let him have the weekend off? And give him a break on weeknights too?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>“No,” Bellamy repeats.</p>
<p>“Bellamy, please,” Clarke says. She thinks she sees him tense a little, and she can’t help but think of the other circumstances she’s said those words under. Beneath him, begging, craving—she squeezes her eyes shut, then quickly opens them again. “I barely get to see him lately.”</p>
<p>Bellamy shrugs. “That’s too bad.”</p>
<p>He’s unmoving, and Clarke can hardly bear to be in his presence a second longer. She turns and stalks from the room, hoping her panty-line isn’t <em>too </em>obvious. Not that he’s even looking, most likely. Not that she <em>wants </em>him to look.</p>
<p>It isn’t until Clarke is halfway home that she realises what’s happening. The bastard is doing it on purpose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After thinking on it further, Clarke manages to half convince herself she’s being paranoid. It’s been six years, for fuck’s sake. He can’t still be hung up on her. Not enough to resort to the petty games her brain is accusing him of. Maybe he really does see potential in Finn. Except, Clarke has read Finn’s work, and though she’d never tell him, he’s mediocre at best. He has improved marginally in the two and a half years they’ve been together, but not enough to warrant special attention from the boss.</p>
<p>But is it crazy to think Bellamy would go out of his way to keep her fiancé from her? Isn’t he more mature than that? She’s not totally convinced he is. Things hadn’t exactly ended on a positive note for them.</p>
<p>She met him at a bar when she was nineteen, and a virgin. He’d shown her how to love her body, and how to love sex. He was twenty-six, writing for a newspaper that was about to go under, but the passion for his work was more important to him than money or stability. He was passionate about a lot of things. His job, his sister, history, politics, activism. And Clarke. He was always so passionate about Clarke.</p>
<p>She loved it, at first. Loved how she’d receive constant texts throughout the day when they were apart. Loved how tightly he’d grip her hand in public, how territorial he’d get when someone else tried to hit on her.</p>
<p>But after three years, she began to realise it wasn’t healthy. He’d get mad if another man so much as looked at her, get into fights with men who dared to glance in her direction. Didn’t like it when she wore revealing clothing in public. Her body was for him, and him alone.</p>
<p>It wasn’t all bad. He was giving, and supportive, and attentive, and the sex was incredible. But his possessive streak was stifling, and sometimes she caught herself wondering if he wanted <em>her, </em>or if he just liked having such a pretty thing to own, all to himself.</p>
<p>Her doubts, and his increasingly possessive and controlling behaviour, hounded her, until the point she couldn’t take it anymore, and she left him. Packed up all her things while he was out, gave him a weak explanation and walked away. Had to block his number, and all his social media, to keep him from begging her to come back. She was afraid she eventually would.</p>
<p>She cried for weeks afterwards. Just because she’s the one who ended it didn’t make it hurt any less. She loved him like crazy.</p>
<p>It took her three years of casual sex and dating to get over him completely, and then she met Finn, who went with the flow, didn’t need to be in control, didn’t care if someone else flirted with her. Being with Finn is easy. Well, it was, until a couple of weeks ago. And somehow, Bellamy is the reason for the change.</p>
<p>Finn has no idea about Clarke’s history with Bellamy, of course. Somehow, Clarke has never been able to bring up her ex. She keeps his name locked up inside her, unable to speak it in fear of what it might evoke in her. Besides, it’s in the past. What does it matter to Finn who Clarke dated six years ago?</p>
<p>She considers telling him now, lying in bed next to him while she agonises over the humiliating encounter with Bellamy. Just when she thinks she’s over it, a fresh bout of embarrassment hits her, making her whole body clench at the excruciating memory.</p>
<p>Finn snores beside her, making it known that he’s asleep. If she were to wake him now to tell him about Bellamy, he’d most likely forget instantly. Better to wait until morning.</p>
<p>Except, when morning comes, he looks so pleased with himself, she can’t bear to tell him. What if it turns out Bellamy really does just think Finn is a great writer and wants to see him reach his potential? Finn will resent Clarke for not believing in him, and he’ll lose Bellamy as a mentor.</p>
<p>So she keeps her mouth shut, and tries not to be too annoyed that their trip has been cancelled.</p>
<p>Instead, she decides she’s going to reward Finn for not cheating on her. Well, it’s partly that, and partly to prove to herself that Bellamy can’t ruin her plans or her relationship, whether he’s trying to or not.</p>
<p>While Finn is at work, she indulges in an extensive beauty routine that takes her hours, but leaves her skin smooth and bare and has her feeling sexy and relaxed. She does her hair and make-up with painstaking precision, even though she’s hoping he’s going to mess it all up within minutes of arriving home. Then she wriggles into some sexy black lingerie and waits for him to come home. Isn’t he fucking lucky to have her?</p>
<p>Except, when he gets home, an hour after he <em>said </em>he’d be home, he’s barely interested.</p>
<p>She hears him at the door and drapes herself over the sofa in an enticing position, looking like a model from a lingerie catalogue. He enters the living room, laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and stops, staring at her.</p>
<p>“Hey,” she says, low and sultry.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he returns. He looks tempted, he really does. But then he gives her an apologetic grimace, and Clarke’s hours of relaxation time are shot to hell.</p>
<p>“What?” she snaps, sitting up, arms crossing over her chest. He doesn’t get to see them if he’s not going to appreciate them properly.</p>
<p>“The boss asked me out for a drink,” he says. “Says I’ve been working so hard he owes me one.”</p>
<p>“And what about your fiancée?” Clarke huffs.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you,” he promises. “When I get home. I’ll do whatever you like.”</p>
<p>Clarke purses her lips, unimpressed. It’s not the gallant, irrefusable offer he thinks it is. Sex with Finn scratches the itch, but it’s nothing special. And acting like <em>she’s </em>the one who should be grateful to have <em>him </em>fuck <em>her</em>? It’s insulting. She’s clearly the one settling here.</p>
<p>And besides, she knows Finn well enough to know that he’ll be in no state to even get it up by the time he comes home shit-faced and exhausted.</p>
<p>But if this proves anything, it’s that Bellamy is in fact, keeping her fiancé from her on purpose. Whether it’s out of spite or jealousy, she can’t be sure, but she sure as hell isn’t going to let him get away with it.</p>
<p>“No,” Clarke says haughtily. “I don’t think so.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Finn frowns. “Are you saying I can’t go?”</p>
<p>“No,” Clarke says. She knows she can’t forbid Finn from doing anything. “I’m coming with you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ninety percent of the reason Clarke is tagging along tonight is because she wants to spend some much-needed time with her fiancé. The other ten percent is redemption for her unexpected run in with Bellamy yesterday. She had looked close to her absolute worst, and she needs a do-over. She had been caught off guard, while he was looking effortlessly sexy and had already been prepared for their eventual meeting.</p>
<p>This time, she’s ready for him. She already has her hair and make-up done, so she takes off her bra and slips into the most revealing dress she owns. Something Bellamy would never have let her out in. The deep cut of the neckline is so low it almost reaches her bellybutton. Finn barely notices her tits are almost falling out of her dress. She pulls on a pair of black pumps, surveys herself in the mirror, and deciding she looks sufficiently slutty, she heads for the car, where Finn is already waiting for her, texting.</p>
<p>“I’m just letting the boss know you’re coming,” Finn says.</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Clarke says, reaching out to grab his phone.</p>
<p>Finn frowns at her. “Why not?”</p>
<p>Clarke blinks at him. That’s an excellent question. It’s not like she can tell him the real reason. <em>Finn, your boss and I used to date and I don’t want him to be prepared to see me because I want to get back at him for surprising me yesterday when I went to talk to him, even though you explicitly asked me not to. Oh by the way, he doesn’t really think you’re any good at your job, he’s just using you to get to me.</em></p>
<p>“Um. What if he doesn’t want me there?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure it’s fine, Clarke,” Finn says. “Besides, I already sent the message.”</p>
<p>Clarke blows out a puff of air and lets go of Finn’s phone. So much for the element of surprise.</p>
<p>Bellamy is with a girl when Clarke and Finn arrive at the bar. She spots them right away, though the bar is already crowded. They’re sitting at a small circular table, his arm around the skinny brunette’s shoulders. Clarke hates her, though she can’t put her finger on why.</p>
<p>“That’s him,” Finn says, spotting the back of Bellamy’s head a few seconds after Clarke does. Finn leads the way over to the table, leaving Clarke to follow. There’s no hand-holding with Finn, unless she initiates it, which she rarely does. Now though, she grabs his hand as they approach the table, making sure Bellamy sees it when they walk around the table into his line of vision.</p>
<p>His gaze falls on their joined hands, then flicks up to meet Clarke’s eyes, only he doesn’t quite make it there, instead, lingering on her ample cleavage. She sees his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, then finally snaps his eyes to hers. Clarke smiles.</p>
<p>Finn lets go of her hand and takes the seat next to Roma, leaving Clarke to squeeze in between him and Bellamy. Her knee bumps up against Bellamy’s, and she wants to jerk it away, but there’s nowhere really for it to move to, so she keeps it there, and tries to ignore the warmth of him blazing through his pants and onto her skin.</p>
<p>At first, she thinks the seating arrangement is Finn’s choice, but then she realises there are already drinks placed on the coasters for them, which Finn must have already noticed.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Finn says. “These for us?” he asks, already picking up the whiskey in front of him and taking a sip.</p>
<p>“Hope you don’t mind,” Bellamy says. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”</p>
<p>“You even guessed Clarke’s drink order right,” Finn says, impressed. Clarke fingers the condensation on her glass of her amaretto sour, her lips pursed. It’s not impressive at all that Bellamy knows her drink order, but of course, Finn wouldn’t know that.</p>
<p>“This is my fiancée, Clarke, by the way,” Finn adds. He’s already downed most of his drink. “Clarke, my boss, Bellamy Blake.”</p>
<p>“Pleased to meet you,” Bellamy says, his eyes heavy on hers as he holds out his hand for her to shake. She takes it, her skin tingling where his thumb brushes over the back of her hand. She wrenches her hand away quickly and takes a few big gulps of her drink.</p>
<p>“I’m Roma,” says Bellamy’s date, since it appears like he’s not going to introduce her himself. Clarke is sure he only brought her along as an afterthought, once he’d been informed Clarke was coming too.</p>
<p>“How did you and Bellamy meet?” Clarke asks innocently. If anyone thinks this is an odd first question to pose to a couple she’s supposedly only just met, no one speaks up.</p>
<p>“Oh, just on Tinder,” Roma shrugs. “What about you two?”</p>
<p>Clarke glances at Bellamy before focusing an adoring gaze on her fiancée. “A mutual friend introduced us. She said she knew we’d be perfect for each other, and she was right,” Clarke says, laying it on thick. “I knew as soon as I saw him he was the one for me.”</p>
<p>“Did you?” Finn says, surprised.</p>
<p>“Of course, babe.” She glances at Bellamy. His lip is curled in disgust, and Clarke feels a rush of satisfaction. She’s winning this one.</p>
<p>“How did he propose?” Roma prods. “Can I see your ring?”</p>
<p>Clarke flings her hand across the table, leaning up against Finn, kissing his cheek. She hangs off him in a way that would normally be embarrassing, but Bellamy’s sour expression makes it worth it. He’s absolutely seething. She recognises the look from when they were together, the one he’d get right before he threw a punch in the direction of a man who dared to flirt with her.</p>
<p>“It’s so pretty,” Roma gushes. “Don’t you think, Bellamy?”</p>
<p>Out the corner of her eye, Clarke sees Bellamy shrug. “It’s okay. Not what I would have picked.”</p>
<p>Clarke’s heart stops at that. She meets his eyes again, and he’s staring at her with an unreadable expression. Surely he’s not suggesting the ring he would have picked out for <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>“I think it’s beautiful,” Clarke says quickly, seeing Finn’s look of uncertainty. He really does value his boss’s opinion.</p>
<p>“Clarke probably has different tastes to the women you date,” Roma says. Her comment makes it clear to Clarke things aren’t serious between them, and she relaxes a little. </p>
<p>“Tell them about the proposal, babe, I’m actually proud of this one,” Finn says.</p>
<p>Honestly, his proposal has been cliché as hell. But it was sweet and romantic, so Clarke tells them the story of how he took her to her favourite restaurant (his favourite, but she never corrected him on that), gave her a bouquet of roses, then got down on one knee and presented the ring, like it’s the greatest love story ever told.</p>
<p>“That’s so romantic,” Roma says.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it?” Clarke agrees. Bellamy looks unmoved by the story. His intense gaze on her is starting to make her feel hot.</p>
<p>“You want another drink, babe?” Finn asks, standing up, his glass empty. Clarke looks down to see her own glass is also empty. She nods, and Finn takes Bellamy and Roma’s drink orders too before heading over to the bar.</p>
<p>Clarke keeps her gaze averted from Bellamy. She doesn’t think he’s taken his eyes off her for even a second. She goes to make idle conversation with Roma, but before she can get the words out of her mouth, Roma has spotted a friend across the room, and is up out of her seat in a flash, leaving Clarke alone with Bellamy, without even a drink to keep her occupied.</p>
<p>“Nice dress,” Bellamy says, his voice low. Clarke shivers. She angles her knees away from him now that there’s more room under the table. She forces herself to look at him. His eyeline is nowhere close to her face, and Clarke follows his gaze down to wear she’s popping out of her dress. She flushes, suddenly embarrassed about her choice of attire. What had she been thinking?</p>
<p>She resists the urge to throw an arm across her chest to hide her breasts from view.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” she says. “Finn likes it too.”</p>
<p>“A lot of men in this bar like it,” Bellamy scowls. She can tell he’s itching to cover her up, or drag her from the bar entirely. There’s an unwelcome throb between her legs when she thinks about what he’d do if they were still together and he caught her wearing this. Take her home, put her over his knee and spank her. Fuck her hard, leave marks all over her body with his mouth, fill her with his come. Remind her who she belongs to.</p>
<p>She squeezes her thighs together, feeling wetness pool between them, annoyed at her body for betraying her. He shouldn’t be allowed to do this to her still. She reassures herself that it’s just because she and Finn haven’t had sex in weeks, and she’s a little keyed up.</p>
<p>“I’m sure they do,” Clarke says. She takes the cherry from her empty glass and sucks on it, before popping it into her mouth completely. Bellamy doesn’t take his eyes from her lips the whole time. He wants her. Good. It means she has the upper hand, even if he managed to get her turned on. She’s going to make it so much worse for him.</p>
<p>Finn returns with a tray of drinks. He sets each one down in front of their respective owners, then takes his seat. Roma returns, passing by Clarke as she does so.</p>
<p>“Oh, Clarke, you smell good,” she says, taking her seat. “What is that?”</p>
<p>“My new perfume,” Clarke lies. It’s the same jasmine scented perfume she’s been wearing for nine years. She holds out her wrist for Roma to smell. She’s actually starting to like the girl. Roma sniffs her wrist.</p>
<p>“I love it,” she says. “What do you think, Bellamy? Should I get some for myself?”</p>
<p>Clarke pounces on the opportunity to torture him further. “Here,” she says, scooping her blonde curls away from her neck. She leans towards him. “It’s stronger on my neck.”</p>
<p>He takes the challenge, leaning over to press his nose against the curve of her neck. She hears his breath hitch, and her heart skips a beat. Perhaps this was a bad idea.</p>
<p>He pulls away, recognition in his eyes. “Smells familiar,” he says, his voice rough. Too late, she remembers he’s the one who first bought her this perfume. She just kind of kept buying it after they broke up, and Finn never bought her one to replace it.</p>
<p>She notices his arm drop under the table, and he shifts in his seat, readjusting himself. She flushes at the implication. God, he’s hard, she just knows it. The knowledge she can still get him hard thrills her.</p>
<p>She manages to clear her head of inappropriate thoughts, and slowly becomes aware that Finn is talking, though Roma seems to be the only one listening. He’s on his third drink now, having brought two for himself back over with him.</p>
<p>Clarke laughs heartily whenever Finn does, nodding like she’s hearing a word he’s saying. All she can think about is Bellamy’s hard on, and how good it would feel pressed against her aching cunt. She has to know if he really does have an erection right now. Surreptitiously, she slips her hand under the table and places it on Bellamy’s thigh, her eyes on Finn, pretending to listen to him talk about some basketball game he watched.</p>
<p>She feels Bellamy tense, but he makes no move to displace her hand. She risks a glance at him. His jaw is tight, his eyes unfocused. Clarke strokes his thigh, slowly making her way higher up his leg. Her heart pounds, anticipation building in her veins. She splays her hand over his crotch, and she thinks only she notices the small grunt he gives as his eyes flutter shut.</p>
<p>He’s rock hard beneath her palm, huge and bulging. If he stood up now, there would be no hiding it. She supresses a whimper as she fondles him, imagining him shoving his big cock down her throat.</p>
<p>“Clarke?” Roma says, startling Clarke out of her haze of desire. She pulls her hand away, her face burning. She risks a glance at Bellamy, who’s now gulping at his drink like he wants to drown in it.</p>
<p>“Hmm?” Clarke says to Roma.</p>
<p>“I was asking about the wedding. When is it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, uh, in two months,” Clarke says. Bellamy slams his glass back down. For a moment Clarke wonders why Finn didn’t just answer the question himself, only to realise he’s left the table to go to the bar again.  “You know, if Finn can actually get some time off work to attend it.”</p>
<p>“Aw, surely Bellamy isn’t working him that hard?” Roma laughs.</p>
<p>“I swear I’ve barely seen him in two weeks,” Clarke says.</p>
<p>Bellamy is unapologetic. “I guess his job is just more important to him.”</p>
<p>“At least tell me there’s something waiting for him at the end of all this hard work,” Clarke says. “A promotion, maybe?”</p>
<p>“You never know.”</p>
<p>“You never know what?” Finn asks, sliding back into his seat.</p>
<p>“We were just discussing how overworked you are,” Clarke says.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” Finn whines. “Come on. I told you not to bring that up.” He turns his attention to Bellamy. “She’s just mad because we haven’t had our twice a week scheduled sex since you took over the magazine.”</p>
<p>Clarke feels heat bloom in her cheeks. God, she can’t look at Bellamy after a comment like that. But she hears the amusement in his voice.</p>
<p>“Twice a week, huh?” he says. “You’re a lucky man.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Finn agrees, with no hint of sarcasm. Clarke looks to Roma, who’s eyeing her with pity, and Clarke cringes.</p>
<p>She had really wanted to outdo Bellamy tonight, show him how much better off she is without him. But with one comment, Finn has undone all her hard work. She can practically feel Bellamy’s smugness radiating off him. God, she hates him. Hates that she knows he’s thinking about how often he used to fuck her—with no need to put it on a calendar.</p>
<p>She manages to look at Bellamy, and sure enough, his face is plastered with an infuriating smirk. He’s won again, and he knows it.</p>
<p>By the end of the night, Clarke is more than a little tipsy, and Finn is far worse. Roma takes off to go clubbing with her friend Bree, and Clarke requires Bellamy’s help to support Finn’s weight on their way out of the bar.</p>
<p>They bundle him into the uber, and then, all of a sudden, she’s alone with Bellamy on a darkened street, a soft breeze blowing her hair into her mouth. At the same moment she goes to brush it aside, Bellamy reaches out to get it for her, and their hands collide.</p>
<p>He drops his hand quickly, shoving both hands into his pockets.</p>
<p>“Don’t let this reflect too badly on him,” Clarke says, referring to Finn’s drunken state. “He really loves that job.”</p>
<p>Bellamy nods. “Does he love you, though?” he says, and then seems to instantly regret it, rubbing his face with his hand. “Forget I said that. Are you going to be okay with him?”</p>
<p>“I’ll manage,” Clarke says. “Maybe the uber driver will help get him inside.”</p>
<p>“That’s not what I meant,” Bellamy says. “Men can get handsy when they’re drunk. Or violent.”</p>
<p>Clarke swallows. “He’s a harmless drunk,” she assures him. Bellamy doesn’t look placated in any way. “I should go,” she says. Bellamy nods, moving out of the way so she can get into the backseat of the car, though he still doesn’t look happy about it.</p>
<p>Clarke steps forward, and before she can think better of it, plants a kiss on his cheek, lingering there a little longer than she should, while she breathes in the smell of him.</p>
<p>“I hate watching you go home with another man,” Bellamy whispers.</p>
<p>Clarke pulls away. “Goodnight, Bellamy,” she says, as if he never spoke. “It was nice seeing you again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finn is home on time Monday evening. Early, even. Clarke is still sketching in the tiny little room she calls a studio when he gets back. She hears the front door close, and she puts down her pencil to go and meet him with a sense of trepidation. Part of her is sure he’s been fired. Would Bellamy stoop so low?</p>
<p>She’s replayed their every word to each other over in her head for the last two days, and while it wasn’t all pleasant, she had thought they’d parted on a somewhat civil note. She hoped maybe seeing her again, happy with someone else, had given him closure, since she couldn’t give that to him six years ago. But perhaps it just enraged him.</p>
<p>“Finn?” Clarke says watching as he tosses his jacket over the back of a dining chair. “You’re home early. Everything okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Finn says. “The boss says I deserve a break, says he’s sorry he’s been working me so hard.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Clarke can’t hide the disbelief from her tone.</p>
<p>Finn nods. “I told you, he likes me.”</p>
<p>Clarke knows Finn remembers almost nothing from Saturday night, but perhaps something she said to Bellamy got through to him. Perhaps they’ve reached some sort of wordless truce. Clarke can live with that.</p>
<p>Finn is home on time every night that week, though he never offers to make up for all the meals he was supposed to cook. Clarke tries not to be too frustrated with him, but he’s acting like he has nothing to make up for. He continues to let Clarke do the lion’s share of the housework, only doing the jobs she assigned him when they first moved in together, and only once she’s reminded him three times.</p>
<p>He comes nowhere close to making up for the lack of sex. Clarke is so underwhelmed by his performance on Monday night, she’s put off for the rest of the week, instead waiting until he’s left for work and wasting an hour of her own work time with her vibrator.</p>
<p>In other words, things are pretty much back to normal again. Which is good. Clarke reminds herself of that every time she catches herself getting frustrated with Finn. Every time her mind lingers on Bellamy.</p>
<p>She gives it a week before she allows Finn redemption for his terrible performance in the bedroom last Monday night. Not that he knows his performance was terrible. Even Finn has an ego when it comes to that, and Clarke has gotten pretty good at faking it over the last three years.</p>
<p>He must sense that she wasn’t totally satisfied last time though, because he offers to go down on her. She almost laughs. There’s a reason she never asks him to eat her out—he fucking sucks at it. He fingers her instead, managing to get an orgasm from her before he sheaths himself in a condom and puts his dick inside her. He’s stopped complaining about the condoms now. Clarke is on the pill, but she’s not taking any chances. Getting pregnant now, to Finn, would be a disaster.</p>
<p>The sex is almost enjoyable, but Finn is already up off the bed, removing the condom, half a second after he’s finished. Clarke is a little insulted.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Finn says, pulling on his discarded boxers. “I should start packing.”</p>
<p>“Packing?” Clarke repeats, sitting up. She pulls the sheets over her naked body.</p>
<p>“For the trip. I told you at dinner.”</p>
<p>Clarke shakes her head. “You never mentioned a trip.” Surely she’s not <em>that </em>bad at listening to him.</p>
<p>“Yes, I did,” Finn huffs. “For work. The boss is sending me and some of the other writers on a retreat for the rest of the week. It’s like a bonding experience. He thinks we compete too much and he wants us to get be a more cohesive unit.”</p>
<p>“Finn,” Clarke says, struggling not to sound shrill. “Is now really the time for that? It’s two months until the wedding. There’s still so much to do, and—”</p>
<p>“Can’t you take care of that?” Finn says. “It’s your wedding.”</p>
<p>“<em>Our</em> wedding,” Clarke corrects, seething.</p>
<p>“You know what I mean,” he says. He’s not looking at her, just throwing clothes into a suitcase haphazardly. “All the fancy stuff is for you. You’re better at it anyway, I’ll only mess it up.”</p>
<p>Clarke wants to scream. They’d agreed when they got engaged that they’d plan the wedding together, and yes, so far Finn hasn’t been the greatest help, but to hear him say it outright like that makes her livid.</p>
<p>Only half her anger is for Finn. The other half of her rage is fuelled by Bellamy. So much for a truce. Keeping Finn late at work wasn’t enough, he has to send him away entirely? Clarke wants to rip his stupidly beautiful curls from his head.</p>
<p>“Besides,” Finn adds. “It’s not like I have a choice, it’s for work.”</p>
<p>“Did you at least <em>try </em>to argue?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Finn says. It’s a blatant lie. He wants to go. Which would be <em>fine</em>, if he discussed it with her first. If this whole thing wasn’t just a ploy by her possessive ex-boyfriend who wants to mess with her new relationship. “I really am sorry,” Finn says. “I thought you’d be fine with it.”</p>
<p>Clarke isn’t mollified in the least, but Finn isn’t giving her much to work with. He rarely fights back, his tactic for those rare times she gets angry with him is pitiful apologies and lame excuses. He’s too pathetic to yell at.</p>
<p>Instead, she seethes in silence, lets her anger fester inside her all night, saving it up for the person who really deserves it.</p>
<p>She doesn’t tell Finn what she’s going to do. She gives him a begrudging kiss on the cheek before he leaves for his mountain retreat, then readies herself for a confrontation with Bellamy. Which for some reason involves heels and a tight skirt. Complete with red lipstick, the look exudes boss bitch energy. She’s not fucking around today.</p>
<p>The office is mostly empty as she strides in from the elevator, her heels making a satisfying click on the polished wooden floors. Most of the writers must be on this retreat, and the other staff work on other floors.</p>
<p>Bellamy’s young, nervous looking assistant is at her desk, and she stands up as Clarke goes to march past her.</p>
<p>“Um, Mr Blake is busy right now,” she says. “He’s on a call.”</p>
<p>“He can make time for this,” Clarke says, not faltering for a moment. The assistant doesn’t have another attempt at trying to stop her, and Clarke barges into Bellamy’s office, slamming the door behind her.</p>
<p>He jumps, then his eyes trail over her, taking her in. She stands with her hands on her hips, shoulders squared, chin raised. Her expression is murderous. There’s a flicker of uncertainty, or perhaps even fear, in his eyes.</p>
<p>“I thought we had a truce,” she snaps.</p>
<p>“I didn’t realise we were in a battle that required a truce.”</p>
<p>“Don’t play dumb. I know what you’ve been doing. Keeping Finn late at work? Making him work weekends? Sending him on a retreat? You’re purposefully trying to keep him away from me.”</p>
<p>“And what if I am?” he retorts. Clarke is taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to admit it so easily.</p>
<p>“It’s psychotic, Bellamy,” she says, recovering from her surprise. “We broke up six years ago. You have no right to mess with my personal life.”</p>
<p>Bellamy stands up and walks towards her, so the desk no longer separates them. Clarke doesn’t like that. The barrier provided some kind of safety, helped her feel like she was the one in control. The closer he is, the harder her heart pounds, the more vulnerable she feels. She hopes he can’t see the effect he still has on her.</p>
<p>“I know that,” he says shortly. “I can’t help it. I hate him. It drives me fucking crazy to see that photo on his desk every day, big ugly rock on your finger. He’s so fucking smug, acting like he deserves you.”</p>
<p>“And you do?”</p>
<p>Bellamy flinches. “Maybe not,” he admits. “But at least I’d fucking try.”</p>
<p>“It’s been six years, Bellamy,” Clarke reminds him again. “Whatever we had—it’s not there anymore. It’s time to accept it. It’s over.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah? It’s over?” Bellamy growls. “What was all that on Saturday night then?” He steps even closer, but Clarke holds her ground. “The teasing? The flirting?” He edges her backwards, her breathing shallow, her eyes focused on his lips. “You groping me in public?”</p>
<p>Clarke swallows, her gaze flicking from his lips to his eyes. Bad decision. Deep, intense pools of molten chocolate threaten to drown her. “I was drunk!” she says. “It didn’t mean anything.”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe you.”</p>
<p>“I’m not yours, Bellamy.”</p>
<p>“You’re wrong, Clarke,” he says, his voice low, the gruffness tugging at something low in her belly. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”</p>
<p>He pushes her one last inch, until she’s pressed against the door behind her, crushing his lips against hers in the same movement. His arms trap her, keep her wedged between his large body and the door. Not that she’s trying to escape. Her last shred of reason is lost the moment his mouth touches hers. She curls her arms around his neck, her mouth opening for him.</p>
<p>His kisses are bruising and greedy, his tongue invading her mouth possessively. His body is pressed against hers in every place possible, and yet it’s not enough. His hands find her waist, and he grips her like he’s afraid someone might try to pull her away from him at any moment. She remembers now—she’s his.</p>
<p>He lifts his hands from her body, and though his mouth is still on hers, she misses the weight of his hands already. It’s only a split second before he’s cupping her tits, and she’s arching into his hands, her body screaming at him that she belongs to him. He fumbles with the buttons on her blouse for a second, before giving up and fisting the material in his hands, then ripping the shirt open. Clarke gasps into his mouth.</p>
<p>“Bellamy!” she tries to scold, but it’s altogether too breathy and weak.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “It’s only a few buttons.”</p>
<p>His lips latch onto her neck, and she gives a low moan.</p>
<p>“You smell just like I remember,” he breathes. “The perfume I gave you. You still smell like you’re mine.” </p>
<p>A blush covers Clarke’s face and chest, but she doesn’t refute him. Is he wrong?</p>
<p>His hands slide onto her ass—there are no panty-lines to contend with today. His fingers press into her flesh, and he lifts her from the floor, so she’s held up against the door, his knee between her parted legs. Her tight skirt rides up her thighs, as she wraps her legs around him, her heels clicking against each other. Her cunt is pressed against his leg where it meets his torso, dripping her arousal onto his pants. She rubs herself against him, curling her fingers into his hair as he sucks her skin into his mouth, then kisses down her collarbone to her breasts. He noses her cleavage, then drags the flimsy cups of her bra down with his teeth, scraping her skin as he does so.</p>
<p>“God, Clarke,” he groans, his mouth against her soft flesh. “You’re so fucking sexy. I hate knowing that somebody else touched these.” He sucks her nipple into his mouth, while he attends to the other with teasing fingers.</p>
<p>“Bellamy,” she moans. “I need you.”</p>
<p>He drops his hand from her breast and slides it between her legs, at the same time lifting his head to suck her bottom lip into his mouth again.</p>
<p>His thumb makes contact with her wet slit, eliciting a strangled groan from his throat. “No panties, baby?”</p>
<p>She’d like to make some excuses about how she can’t wear panties under this skirt because it’s too tight, but she can’t seem to form the words. Besides, she knows her excuse will ring hollow anyway. Instead, she just whimpers in response as he presses his thumb against her clit.</p>
<p>“I bet Finn can’t make you feel like this, can he?” Bellamy says, his lips against her ear as he fingers her lazily. “I’m the only one who can get you to fall apart like this. Bet you think about me when he fucks you, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Clarke admits.</p>
<p>“Can’t stand to think of him with his filthy hands on you,” Bellamy growls. “Your body is for me, and me only. Nobody else knows how to appreciate you, baby. You’re mine. You’re mine.”</p>
<p>His fingers pump in and out of her, and Clarke is thankful he’s holding her up, because otherwise she’d melt into a puddle on the floor.</p>
<p>“Please, Bellamy,” she begs again.</p>
<p>“What do you need, sweetheart? You need my cock? Need me to fill you up good, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Clarke cries. “I need your cock. I need it so bad.”</p>
<p>Her eyes are squeezed shut, but she hears him unbuckling his belt, then unzipping his fly. She opens her eyes to see him pull out his cock, and she can’t stop the longing whine that slips out of her mouth at the sight of it.</p>
<p>“You’ve missed this, haven’t you, baby?” Bellamy says.</p>
<p>Clarke nods. Bellamy pushes her skirt up to her waist, and he slides his hard cock against her slippery folds. Her pussy throbs, desperate to be filled by him, to feel him stretch her out, claim her with his cock like no one else can.</p>
<p>He kisses her messily as he pushes his cock inside her, with no thought of a condom. She’s on the pill, thankfully, but she doubts it would matter to Bellamy. He’d probably love to get her pregnant, just another way to claim her as his.</p>
<p>The door shudders behind her as he fucks her against it. He whispers words of praise, as well as reminding her over and over that she’s his. That his cock is the only one she should be taking inside her. Clarke moans with every thrust of his hips, her high-pitched cries filling the room as she hurtles towards her climax, clutching at Bellamy like he’s her one tether to life.</p>
<p>She comes so hard she almost blacks out, and she knows she sounds like a desperate whore.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna come inside you, baby,” Bellamy grunts. “Remind you who you belong to.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Clarke moans. “Come in me.”</p>
<p>He comes inside her moments later, and fuck, she forgot how good it feels to have her pussy full of come. <em>His </em>come specifically.</p>
<p>She can feel it leaking out of her as she unhooks her legs and he drops her to the floor. She wobbles, her legs almost buckling under her, and he reaches out to steady her.</p>
<p>He strokes her stomach with his thumb as his eyes rake over her, pupils wide, taking in her dishevelled appearance. Her skirt around her waist, her bare cunt dripping with come. Her tits on display with her bra bunched beneath them, her shirt hanging open, the buttons missing.</p>
<p>She yanks her skirt down, then pulls her bra into place, her face burning under his heated gaze. She pulls her blouse closed and folds her arms across her chest. He’s looking at her like he wants to rip all her clothes off and take her again, and again, and again, until all she remembers is his name. Yet there’s a softness in him too, and she remembers how he used to hold her close after he fucked her, tracing his lips against her skin.</p>
<p>“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, brushing his lips against hers.</p>
<p>Her stomach churns, but she’s not entirely sure what she’s feeling. Satisfied, yet still aching to be touched. Embarrassed, guilty. She’s sure Bellamy’s assistant must have heard her moaning, and Clarke isn’t looking forward to the walk of shame out of the office.</p>
<p>“This was a mistake,” Clarke chokes out, and Bellamy’s face hardens. “I’m with Finn, I—” Oh god. Finn.</p>
<p>Bellamy says nothing. He straightens his clothes, his jaw tight, his eyes gleaming. He’s angry, Clarke knows. But what did he expect? That he’d fuck her once and she’d be so grateful she’d leave her fiancé for him?</p>
<p>He stalks back over to his desk chair and sits down.</p>
<p>“I should go,” Clarke whispers.</p>
<p>“So go,” he spits out. Clarke flinches. She gives him a nod and flees from the room.</p>
<p>She keeps her head down, but she risks a glance at Bellamy’s assistant as she passes. The girl is red-faced, staring steadfastly at her computer screen, typing gibberish in a word document. Clarke wants to die. She’s sure the assistant heard everything. She can only hope she’ll be discreet about it, for Bellamy’s sake, if not Clarke’s.</p>
<p>Clarke can feel Bellamy’s come leaking out of her as she makes her way out of the office and back to her car. She tries not to think about it. Tries not to think about what she’s done, or how good it was. Tries not to think about what she said, or what <em>he </em>said.</p>
<p>When she gets home, she quickly strips off her clothes and steps into a hot shower. And then, for some reason, she bursts into tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sleeps late the following morning. She’d been awake until the early hours of the morning, wracked with guilt, her skin tingling with the ghost of Bellamy’s touch.</p>
<p>She drags herself into the shower, and it’s not until she’s towelling herself off in front of the mirror that she notices the purple marks on her neck and collarbone, left by Bellamy’s mouth.</p>
<p>She swallows thickly, a heat pulsing through her as she traces over the marks with her fingertips, admiring them in the mirror. There’s something sickeningly thrilling about having him mark her, the hickeys a visual reminder of what they did. Thank god Finn isn’t here to see them. But then, would he even fucking notice?</p>
<p>Clarke dresses in a simple singlet and shorts, unable to stand the thought of covering up the hickeys. Some sick part of her wants to show them off, wishes there was someone she could show them to.</p>
<p>She locks herself in her little studio, and gets to working on her latest project, designing a mascot for a client’s business. As she works, she can’t stop touching the spots where she knows he’s marked her, can’t stop thinking about him sucking on her skin, his cock inside her.</p>
<p>She drops her pencil, her hand slipping between her legs, stroking herself over her shorts. Soon it’s not enough, and she shoves her hand into her panties, frantically rubbing her clit, while Bellamy’s words echo in her head. <em>You’re mine. You’ll always be mine</em>.</p>
<p>She brings herself over the edge with his name on her lips, panting hard. Fuck. Is it cheating if she fingers herself to the thought of another man? Not that she hasn’t already <em>actually </em>cheated on her fiancé.</p>
<p>But she’s putting that behind her. It was a mistake. She lost herself in the heat of the moment. She was horny, and her incredibly sexy ex was coming on to her. Can she really be blamed if she forgot about her fiancé for half an hour?</p>
<p>But she really wants to be a good fiancée, and she wants to move forward with Finn, and she knows he never needs to find out about her tiny indiscretion.</p>
<p>So she puts Bellamy out of her mind. Or at least, she tries to. It’s hard when she sees those territorial marks on her neck and chest every time she looks in the mirror, bringing him blazing to the forefront of her mind, her cunt pulsing with need. Still, she can’t bring herself to cover them up with make-up, or a sweater. She likes the way they look.</p>
<p>Over the four days Finn is away, Clarke finds she kind of likes not having him around. She doesn’t have to compromise, or clean up after him. Doesn’t have to eat his shitty cooking, or worry about him finding out about how much she masturbates. Which she does a lot more while he’s away. She doesn’t have to see his gross friends. She barely thinks about the wedding at all, though the date is getting close and there are still a million things to be done. She almost doesn’t want him to come back.</p>
<p>By the time he does come home, Clarke’s hickeys have almost completely faded. It should be a relief, but Clarke can’t help but feel disappointed when she looks in the mirror and can hardly see them anymore. She covers what’s left of them with make-up, just in case he happens to actually take some notice of her.</p>
<p>She’s in the kitchen making dinner when he gets home on Friday night, and he doesn’t come in to see her until he’s already showered and changed.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he greets her, when he finally makes an appearance. He gives her a quick kiss before he sits on a stool at the counter. “What are you making?”</p>
<p>Clarke resists the urge to wipe her mouth. “Tacos. Are you hungry?”</p>
<p>Finn shrugs. “I grabbed some pizza on the way home.”</p>
<p>Clarke wants to throw the bowl of guacamole she’s making at his face. Why is it that he never seems to consider her before he makes a decision? Bellamy would never have done that. His first thought was always her.</p>
<p>She grits her teeth. “How was the retreat?”</p>
<p>“Great,” Finn beams. “I’d love to tell you about it, but you know. What happens on the retreat stays on the retreat.” He winks.</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>“I threw my dirty clothes in the machine, would you mind doing a load? I’d do it, but I’m exhausted. Think I’m just going to watch a few episodes of The Big Bang Theory then go to bed.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t you going to ask me how my week was?” Clarke huffs.</p>
<p>Finn looks startled for a moment, then quickly becomes apologetic. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. What did you get up to?”</p>
<p>Clarke hardly feels like telling him now, but she made a big deal about it, so now she has to. She swallows her pride. “Working mostly. I caught up with the girls last night.” <em>I fucked your boss in his office</em>.</p>
<p>“Nice,” Finn says. He clears his throat, his eyes darting towards the door. He clearly wants to go watch his stupid TV show, but he doesn’t know if he’s off the hook yet. “Anything else?”</p>
<p>“That’s it,” Clarke says shortly. “Go relax.”</p>
<p>Finn smiles. “Thanks, babe.” He slips off the stool and heads for the living room.</p>
<p>“You can do your laundry in the morning,” she calls after him, not glancing up from the avocado she’s aggressively mashing.</p>
<p>He’s already asleep when she crawls in beside him that night. She feels no urge to be close to him, and she begins to wonder when the last time she actually wanted his company was. Sure, she was annoyed about him coming home late, but it was more about the inconvenience of messing up their schedule, and him skipping out on doing the household jobs he was supposed to do. He sure as hell doesn’t miss her presence when she’s not around. He seems to barely notice her when she <em>is </em>around.</p>
<p><em>Does he love you? </em>Bellamy’s words ring in her head. She looks over at her fiancée, snoring gently in the dark next to her. She realises she has no idea if he loves her. She thinks he did, at the start. But if he loves her now, he certainly doesn’t show it.</p>
<p>And, what’s more certain—she doesn’t love him. She’s not sure she even likes him right now. She can’t remember the last time he made her feel something other than annoyance.</p>
<p>It’s probably a phase. All couples go through this kind of thing, right? If they can make it through this, and through the wedding, they’ll be okay. It’s not like he hits her. It’s not like he’s cheating on her.</p>
<p>So what if he never tells her she’s beautiful? So what if he’s not interested in what she’s doing? She doesn’t need him to dote on her, to obsess over her, to make her feel lightheaded with lust. He’s a nice, simple guy. That’s what she needs.</p>
<p>A tear she didn’t even know had formed runs down her cheek, and she quickly brushes it away. She tells herself her issues with Finn are fixable. They’ve both grown complacent, forgotten how to care about each other. That’s why she feels this gut-wrenching urge to pack up her things and leave him.</p>
<p>It’s got nothing to do with the fact that she’s still hopelessly in love with someone else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finn reminds Clarke about the launch party for the magazine’s new website the day before it happens. She doesn’t want to go.</p>
<p>It’s been two weeks since Finn returned from his retreat, and Clarke has stopped believing he’s going to find out she cheated on him. The first Monday he went back to work was the worst. She felt wretched all day, sure Bellamy, or Bellamy’s assistant, or that one writer who didn’t go on the retreat would tell Finn what she’d done.</p>
<p>But each day the threat became less and less, and so did her guilt, and she’s convinced she’s in the clear. And as soon as she stops thinking about Bellamy, everything will go back to normal. Which is why she can’t go to Finn’s stupid work party. If she sees Bellamy, it will just bring up all the feelings she’s trying to quash.</p>
<p>Honestly, she didn’t think Finn would care. It’s not like he’ll pay any attention to her at the party anyway. But apparently he’ll look like an idiot if he shows up alone, since all his co-workers are bringing their partners.</p>
<p>So Clarke does the good fiancée thing and reluctantly dresses herself up for the occasion. Nothing too provocative this time, she doesn’t want to catch Bellamy’s attention. Still, the blue dress does show a <em>little </em>cleavage. And if blue happens to be Bellamy’s favourite colour, that’s just a coincidence.</p>
<p>The launch party is being held at an indoor mini golf course with a bar. Apparently the suggestion had been Finn’s, and he’s immensely proud of it. Clarke actually thinks it’s pretty cool. It looks fun, and she supposes it’s close enough to being an outdoor activity to warrant being the location of an outdoor magazine’s website launch party.</p>
<p>Plus, it looks like there will be plenty of places to hide from Bellamy.</p>
<p>The first person Clarke locks eyes with as she enters the venue on Finn’s arm is Bellamy’s assistant. The girl’s eyes widen and she looks away hurriedly, blushing. Clarke feels a blush on her own cheeks as she follows the girls eyeline across the room to where Bellamy is leaning casually against the bar. Well, his stance is casual. His jaw is tense, and his eyes full of heat. He’s wearing a black button down and black jeans, looking effortlessly sexy. Clarke looks away. Of course, Finn heads straight for him, and Clarke is powerless to do anything but follow.</p>
<p>“Hey, boss,” Finn grins, holding out his hand. Bellamy takes it, shaking it firmly. He doesn’t look at Clarke, and somehow that’s worse than when he was looking at her. “What’s the go for tonight?”</p>
<p>“Let people mingle, have a drink. I’ll give a quick speech, let Monty give a rundown of the new website. Then whoever wants to have a round of golf can do that, or just go back to drinking.”</p>
<p>“You want to tee off together?” Finn asks.</p>
<p>Bellamy hesitates. She prays he’ll say no. There has to be some excuse he can give. “Sounds great,” he agrees. “You get yourself a drink, I have some other people I need to talk to.”</p>
<p>He brushes past them, and Clarke feels sick to her stomach. It’s like she doesn’t exist to him. That should be a good thing, right? But she can’t seem to stand that he’s mad at her, and she finds herself desperately wanting to make it up to him somehow.</p>
<p>Finn doesn’t seem to notice Bellamy’s mood, or the way he’d completely ignored Clarke. He orders drinks for the two of them, then introduces Clarke to some more of his co-workers. Clarke smiles and nods politely when she feels it’s necessary, but she’s not really listening to the conversation. Her eyes follow Bellamy as he flits from person to person, shaking hands, grinning, thanking people for coming. He never glances in her direction, and she can’t deny it hurts.</p>
<p>Half an hour later, Bellamy gives his prepared speech to the crowd of people milling around the bar area, then hands over to Monty Green, who unveils the website on a projection on the white wall behind them. Then, everyone is free to do as they please. Well, everyone except Clarke. She just wants to go home, but she knows she can’t leave yet.</p>
<p>People start to group up to start their round of nine holes, and inevitably, Clarke finds herself teeing off at the first hole with Finn, Bellamy, and none other than Bellamy’s assistant, who’s name she learns is Maya. Maya looks supremely uncomfortable, and Clarke feels the same way.</p>
<p>It turns out, Clarke isn’t very good at mini golf. It looks so easy, but there must be some skill involved, because while the other three seem to go one shot over par at most, Clarke takes six to eight shots every time, and that’s only because eight is the maximum you’re allowed.</p>
<p>So maybe she’s really terrible at mini golf, or maybe she’s finding it hard to relax because she’s playing mini golf with her fiancé, the ex she cheated on her fiancé with, who also happens to be said fiancé’s boss, and the girl who knows she cheated on her fiancé with her ex slash fiancé’s boss.</p>
<p>Finn doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Not the fact that Bellamy and Clarke haven’t spoken a word to each other, or that Bellamy won’t even look at her. Not Maya’s nervous looks between the three of them. Clarke wants to tell her to pull it together. What does <em>she </em>have to be nervous about?</p>
<p>There’s some reprieve when Maya decides she’s had enough golfing (or perhaps enough of the awkward tension everyone but Finn seems to be aware of) and skips off to join the IT guys at the bar. But then Finn decides he needs to go to the bathroom just before his turn on the sixth hole, and alarmingly, Clarke is left alone with Bellamy, who seems very interested in the grip on his putter.</p>
<p>They let the group behind them go ahead while they wait by the start of the hole, Bellamy sitting on a fake rock.</p>
<p>“So you won’t even look at me, is that it?” Clarke says, once the group has moved on and they’re alone. He finally looks at her, and her heart constricts.</p>
<p>“I can’t,” he says quietly. He doesn’t elaborate, but Clarke figures it has something to do with the fact that he’s angry she’s still with Finn.</p>
<p>“You have no right to be mad at me,” Clarke says. “I told you I’m not yours.”</p>
<p>“You did,” he agrees.</p>
<p>“And it’s not like this isn’t just some game to you anyway,” she continues. “You just want to prove you still have a hold over me. I’m just some piece of property to you, not a real person. You just want to own me.”</p>
<p>Bellamy looks up at her, and swallows hard. He looks like he’s about to respond, but then Finn rejoins them and the words die on his tongue.</p>
<p>“Alright, let’s get back to it,” Finn says. “I still think I can win this thing.”</p>
<p>Clarke’s golf game shows no improvement.</p>
<p>“You’re too tense,” Finn tells her as she takes her sixth stroke on the eighth hole. She turns to glare at him. Of course she’s fucking tense. Not that he knows why. “Plus, you’re holding the club wrong. And your feet are too close together.”</p>
<p>Clarke huffs. “Well show me how to do it properly.”</p>
<p>“Bellamy’s the expert, you show her, boss.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” she says quickly, but Bellamy is already walking over to her.</p>
<p>“Here,” he says, shifting her body so she’s standing over her bright pink ball, facing the hole. He takes her hands and positions them on the grip, interlocking her fingers. Her pulse races, and her skin tingles everywhere he touches her.</p>
<p>His hand brushes along her waist as he moves behind her, then slides his hands down her arms so they engulf her where she’s gripping the golf club. She can’t breathe. Is Finn watching this? Does it look as intimate as it feels?</p>
<p>Bellamy’s breath tickles her ear. “Spread your legs, baby,” he whispers, nudging her feet apart with his foot. Clarke wants to die. She can feel him all pressed up against her back, and she wants to grind back against him. It’s lucky the lighting is dim, because she’s sure her face is bright red.</p>
<p>“Line the ball up,” he says. Golf is the last thing on Clarke’s mind, and she lets him take control, gently swinging the putter back, then knocking the ball lightly into the hole. “Good girl,” he says, stepping away. Clarke is sure her panties are soaked.</p>
<p>“See?” Finn says, totally oblivious as usual. “It’s not that hard.”</p>
<p>Bellamy mutters something that sounds suspiciously like <em>it's pretty fucking hard actually</em>, and Clarke doesn't think he's referring to mini golf.</p>
<p>Clarke finishes the ninth hole with shaky hands, unable to get the feel of Bellamy’s skin on hers out of her mind. Finn tallies up the final scores, and he loses out to Bellamy by two strokes. Clarke’s score is so high it’s hardly worth adding it up at all.</p>
<p>“Another drink, babe?” Finn asks, pocketing the scorecard.</p>
<p>“I think I just want to go home,” Clarke says. She hadn’t even wanted to be here in the first place.</p>
<p>“Seriously?” Finn groans. “It’s still so early. I’m not ready to leave yet.”</p>
<p>“Well, you can stay,” Clarke says, though she’s always hated being in a taxi or an uber alone, ever since she read an article about drivers from hell. “I’ll just—”</p>
<p>“I’ll drive you,” Bellamy says.</p>
<p>“Great,” Finn says, before Clarke has a chance to argue. “Thanks, boss. I’ll see you later Clarke. Don’t wait up.” He heads off towards the bar.</p>
<p>“Come on,” Bellamy says, placing his big hand on the small of her back.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to—”</p>
<p>“Clarke, I know how much you hate being left alone with a taxi driver. I’ll drive you. I won’t try anything. Promise.”</p>
<p>Clarke nods. “Okay,” she agrees. He leads her to his car.</p>
<p>Clarke assumes he’s giving her ride because he wants to finish their conversation from earlier, but as soon as they’re in the car, it’s like he’s back to not speaking to her again.</p>
<p>He’s gotten a new car since she last saw him. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was less than a few months old. Perhaps he treated himself when he got the new job. She sinks back into the comfortable leather seat, but it’s hard to completely relax when she’s hyper aware of his every move. She tenses up every time he moves his hand on the gearstick, waiting for him to place it on her thigh. She closes her eyes so she stops thinking about it.</p>
<p>“I’m not mad at you,” he finally says, filling the silence with his deep voice. Clarke opens her eyes. They’re almost at her house. “Or maybe I am, I don’t know.”</p>
<p>Clarke scoffs. “That clears things up. I told you, you have no right to be mad at me. I told you—”</p>
<p>“You’re not mine,” Bellamy finishes for her. He pulls into her driveway and shuts off the car, and they both unbuckle their seatbelts. “I get it. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Clarke nods. He does sound genuinely sorry. Bellamy looks away, rubbing his hand over his face, clenching his jaw. “Let me walk you to the door,” he says. “Make sure you get in safely.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Clarke agrees. If she’s being honest with herself, she’s missed somebody being so protective of her. Taking care of her. She never had to worry about being left alone when she was with Bellamy.</p>
<p>He kills the headlights and they both get out of the car. The security light comes on as they reach the front door.</p>
<p>He stands just behind her as she jiggles the key in the lock, and his looming presence makes it take her twice as long as usually to get the door unlocked. It finally clicks open, and Bellamy clears his throat.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he says. “Goodnight, I guess.”</p>
<p>He turns to go, but before he’s even put one foot in front of the other, he turns back. “It’s just, it seemed an awful lot like you were mine when I was fucking you against the door in my office.”</p>
<p>Clarke’s jaw drops open, and a blush creeps over her cheeks. “So you are mad.”</p>
<p>His jaw locks. “And what if I am? You left me with barely an explanation, wouldn’t speak to me, wouldn’t let your friends speak to me. And then you show up out of the blue with a fucking dickhead of a fiancé, fuck me, and expect me to just be happy that you’re staying with him?”</p>
<p>“It was a fucking mistake, Bellamy,” Clarke yells. “I told you that.”</p>
<p>“Cheating isn’t a mistake, Clarke. Cheating is a conscious choice, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you came to my office wearing those fuck me heels and no panties.”</p>
<p>Clarke chokes on her own tongue, her face growing even redder. “Shut up,” she hisses, opening the door and dragging him inside by his wrist. “The neighbours will hear you.”</p>
<p>He snorts, wrenching his hand away from her. “You never used to worry about what anyone else thought.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m different now,” Clarke snaps. “It’s been six years. What did you expect?”</p>
<p>“Six years and I still don’t know what the fuck I did wrong.”</p>
<p>The porchlight glows through the windows by the door, the only light illuminating his pained expression.</p>
<p>Clarke gapes at him. Does he really not know? Sure, she didn’t give him much of an explanation. But she’d kind of thought he’d figure it out.</p>
<p>He shakes his head, taking a moment, like he’s trying to gather the strength to ask the question. There’s still a tremor in his voice when he speaks. “Why’d you leave me, Clarke?”</p>
<p>She can’t take his vulnerability. Can’t allow herself to be that vulnerable with him. So she gets defensive.</p>
<p>“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to explain it back then. But I was fucking twenty-two. I’d never been with anyone else. And you were so—possessive. Controlling. Jealous. It wasn’t healthy.”</p>
<p>Bellamy’s expression softens. He swallows guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “I never knew you felt that way. I guess I thought—” he pauses, studying her. “I thought you liked that about me.”</p>
<p>It’s Clarke’s turn to look guilty. Because if she’s really being honest with herself, he’s right. The way she’d obsessed over the hickeys he gave her. How his jealousy of Finn thrills her.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t unhealthy.” She takes a deep breath. “Bellamy, I was so ridiculously in love with you,” she says. “But leaving you was the right thing to do. I needed time on my own to figure out who I was without you.”</p>
<p>“And now?” He steps towards her. Her breath catches. </p>
<p>“Now?” she repeats dumbly. Mostly because his proximity, and the husky, questioning tone of his voice has all coherent thought slipping from her brain. Her heart pounds.</p>
<p>“Now, if I told you it hurts to look at you, knowing someone else has touched you? Knowing you belong to someone else? If I told you I wanted to fire Finn as soon as I saw that engagement picture? How angry I get every time I see someone else’s ring on your finger?”</p>
<p>Clarke whimpers. Her eyes dart to his lips, and she inadvertently sways toward him.</p>
<p>“I thought as much,” he breathes. He grabs her by the waist and tugs her close to him, bringing her lips to his. Clarke melts. Her body responds to him with no objections, though somewhere in the back of her mind she’s aware this is wrong. Her lips part, her nipples harden, her legs spread. Her body knows she belongs to him, even if her head doesn’t want to admit it.</p>
<p>Bellamy knows it too. He knows just how to kiss her to make her forget why she shouldn’t. Knows exactly where to put his hands, how to touch her to make her completely pliant for him. How to make her wish he’d never stop.</p>
<p>They shouldn’t be doing this. Not at all, but especially not here, when Finn could come home at any minute and catch them in the act. Still, Clarke lets Bellamy kiss her, and she kisses him back. She doesn’t stop him when his hand drops to pull her dress up over her ass, squeeze her soft flesh, run his fingers along the lacy thong wedged between her cheeks.</p>
<p>“Tell me you didn’t wear this for Finn,” Bellamy groans against her mouth. She shakes her head. Truthfully, she’s been making sure she only wears sexy underwear since that first embarrassing encounter in his office. “For me?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Always for you,” Clarke breathes. Bellamy tugs the thong down her thighs to her knees, where she shimmies them down to her ankles. He picks her up then, like she weighs nothing. She hooks her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, and kicks her heels off. He carries her down the hallway, barely looking where he’s going, too focused on her cleavage.</p>
<p>“Here,” Clarke says, when they reach her bedroom. She pushes the door open and he carries her inside, to the bed she shares with Finn, dropping her onto it. She reaches for the lamp beside the bed and switches it on, so she can see him standing over her. Her dress has flipped up to her waist, and her bare cunt is spread open on display for him. It’s impossible to hide how aroused she is. She goes to push the skirt back down.</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Bellamy growls. Clarke stops, flushing. “I want to see what’s mine.”</p>
<p>Clarke nods, lip caught between her teeth. “Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>Bellamy’s eyes flash. “Take your dress off,” he commands. Clarke obeys, sitting up to pull her dress over her head, so she’s left in only her lacy red bra, barely containing her tits with the near sheer fabric. “And the bra, sweetheart,” he says, like she should know better. Her bra follows her dress to the floor.</p>
<p>“Good girl,” Bellamy coos. Clarke squirms. She just wants him to touch her again.</p>
<p>Instead, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, and Clarke watches his muscles ripple as he shrugs it off. His shoes and socks come off too, and then he crawls onto the bed on top of her, kissing her lips, and then her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Did you like the gifts I left you with last time?” Bellamy asks, kissing her neck gently, like he can remember the exact spot he left the hickey, though it’s long faded now. With his hand, he caresses her thigh, teasing her, never getting close enough to the spot she needs him most. “Did you think of me every time you looked at those marks on your skin?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Clarke whimpers.</p>
<p>“Good,” Bellamy says. “It’s a pity Finn didn’t get to see them,” he says. “What do you think he’d do if he found out his fiancé belonged to someone else?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Clarke says. But the real answer is <em>probably nothing</em>. He’d likely not even notice.</p>
<p>“Maybe we should find out.” He sucks hard on her skin, harder than last time, for longer, like he hopes it will never fade. His fingers trail up her thigh, and he strokes her slit with his thumb. She cants her hips towards him, desperate for something inside her, but he punishes her eagerness by removing his hands from her skin entirely. She whines, and he responds by moving his mouth a little lower, and sucking another hickey there.</p>
<p>He sits back on his knees, as if to admire his handiwork. His eyes rake over her naked body, surveying what belongs to him. His eyes catch on her left hand, and he frowns.</p>
<p>He takes her by the arm and lifts her wrist to his lips. He kisses her pulse point, then over her palm and her fingertips, before he takes her ring finger into his mouth, then drags her engagement ring off with his teeth. He spits it out, somewhere on the carpet.</p>
<p>“You don’t need that,” he tells her. Clarke doesn’t deny it.</p>
<p>“Bellamy, please,” she begs. He cunt is pulsing, clenching around nothing, dripping arousal onto the bedspread.</p>
<p>“What do you need, baby?” Bellamy whispers, bringing his lips back to hers. “You need my big cock inside you? Is that it? Need me to fuck you properly?”</p>
<p>“Uh huh.”</p>
<p>His fingers massage her clit, and she arches her back, her hard nipples brushing against his chest. His lips ghost over her neck, back down to her tits.</p>
<p>“God, I missed these,” he groans, then licks her nipple. “Your tits are so fucking gorgeous, baby. Want them all to myself.” He drags his mouth down her stomach until his poised above her slit. “And your pussy. All mine. Don’t want to share this pretty cunt with anybody.”</p>
<p>His tongue delves into her folds, and soon she’s remembering how good oral sex can actually be. He licks every inch of her cunt, like he’s claiming his territory with his tongue. She bucks against his face, his teasing, languid pace driving her insane. She needs to come so bad.</p>
<p>“Please,” she whines. “Please, please.”</p>
<p>His mouth drops even lower, and he lifts her knees over his shoulders as he kisses her ass cheek. The throbbing between her legs intensifies.</p>
<p>“What about your ass, baby?” he growls. “Tell me you didn’t let anybody else fuck your tight little asshole.”</p>
<p>Clarke shakes her head. “No,” she chokes out, as he delves his tongue between her cheeks and licks her clenched asshole, worming his way into the tight hole. Clarke feels like she’s about to black out. She’s never let anyone else touch her there.</p>
<p>“Bellamy, please just fuck me,” she says, on the verge of tears. “Please. I need—I need—” she groans, unable to articulate what she actually needs. His cock. Wherever he wants to put it, she doesn’t care, as long as he fucks her good and hard.</p>
<p>He finally pulls his head away, and Clarke half expects to see a cocky grin, but all she can see is a hungry, lustful look on his face, his eyes almost completely black, her arousal coating his chin.</p>
<p>He gets back on his knees and starts undoing his belt, then his fly, and then he’s scrambling off the bed to kick his pants off. His cock is so hard it’s a wonder it hasn’t torn a hole through his boxers. He tugs his boxers down, freeing his impressive erection, and Clarke feels a fresh surge of wetness drench her inner thighs.</p>
<p>Bellamy gets back onto the bed and presses the length of his cock against Clarke’s slit. He drags it up and down, coating himself in her juices, at the same time rubbing her clit, sending shockwaves through her body.</p>
<p>“Please, Bellamy,” Clarke cries. “I need you inside me.” How much more does she have to beg before he’ll give it to her?</p>
<p>“Not until you admit that you’re mine,” Bellamy growls.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Clarke agrees. It’s pointless denying it at this point. “I’m yours, I’m yours. Take me with your cock, show me who I belong to.”</p>
<p>Bellamy gives a guttural moan, and then he finally thrusts his length inside her. He has her pinned to the bed by her wrists, and Clarke writhes beneath him as he ravages her with his cock, pounding into her cunt with such vigour Clarke thinks she might actually break in half.</p>
<p>But fuck, it feels good, and with all his teasing, it takes her no time at all to reach climax, and she cries out helplessly, her body spasming, her pussy gushing, him still fucking her like his life depends on it. She quickly comes again, slightly less powerful this time.</p>
<p>“Hope you’re still on the pill, baby,” Bellamy grunts. “I’m gonna come in you. Fill you up with so much come you’ll be full up for weeks.”</p>
<p>She comes again, arching towards him, eyes fluttering shut, the world going hazy around her. This time, he comes with her, his semen spurting into her coating her walls and dripping out of her cunt. With one last thrust, he gives an animalistic grunt, then collapses on top of her, spent.</p>
<p>He’s heavy, but she likes the way his whole body covers hers, likes the way his hot, sweaty skin feels, likes the feeling of safety beneath his strong, hard body.</p>
<p>Eventually, he rolls off her, his cock slipping out of her cunt, trailing come all over the bed. He pulls her into his arms, her back against his chest, cuddling her like they used to. Clarke hums happily as he presses kisses to her shoulder. His fingers play with her nipples almost absent-mindedly.</p>
<p>“You know, as much as I hate other men looking at your body, I can’t deny that dress you wore to the bar that night did something to me,” Bellamy muses. “I felt like you were getting your tits out just for me. God, I wanted to kiss you so bad that night.”</p>
<p>“It was for you,” Clarke admits. “I had to make up for how bad I looked when I came storming into your office. You must have thought I was such a mess.”</p>
<p>“A mess? No,” Bellamy chuckles. “I was thinking about how I could see your nipples through your shirt. And how you had a slight camel toe if you looked closely enough. I was thinking, <em>this woman needs a good fucking</em>.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Clarke huffs.</p>
<p>“What? I was right, wasn’t I?”</p>
<p>Clarke pouts. “Yes,” she says sulkily. They’re silent for a moment, Bellamy stroking Clarke’s arm. She can already feel his cock starting to get hard again.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” Bellamy finally says, softer than she’s ever heard him say her name. Her stomach flips over. He shifts, rolling her onto her back so he can look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, you know. I wasn’t trying to—I know it must have seemed immature. Avoiding you tonight. And messing with Finn, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Clarke swallows, barely able take his sincerity.</p>
<p>“It just—hurts. Seeing you with someone else. I’m just trying to hold it together,” he continues.</p>
<p>“Even after six years?” Clarke asks, as if she hasn’t been in love with him for just as long.</p>
<p>“It killed me when you left, Clarke,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’ve been trying to move on for six years, but it’s useless.”</p>
<p>“It killed me to leave,” Clarke croaks out. Bellamy brushes a tear away from her cheek that she didn’t realise had fallen. “Bellamy,” she says quickly, before she can think better of it. “I’m sorry too, for the record.”</p>
<p>Bellamy studies her intently for a moment. “I know you think I just want to own you. But it’s not like that. I want to be with you. Seeing you with someone else—it drives me crazy. I still love you, Clarke. I’ve always loved you.” He smiles sadly.</p>
<p>Clarke’s heart jumps around wildly in her chest. She wants to tell him she loves him too. But then there’s a loud thumping coming from the front door, and she sits bolt upright, her stomach dropping.</p>
<p>“Clarke!” Finn yells, clearly drunk off his ass. “I’m locked out! Come open the door!”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Clarke curses, already throwing herself out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She needs to get herself and Bellamy dressed before Finn realises he’s not locked out at all because Clarke never actually locked the door.</p>
<p>She grabs her dress from the floor and pulls it on, while Bellamy pulls up his boxers. Clarke locates his shirt and throws it at him, and he does the buttons up haphazardly before pulling his pants on and slipping his shoes on, not bothering with the socks, those he shoves into his pocket. Clarke hopes Finn will be drunk enough not to realise how completely fucked out they both look.</p>
<p>Clarke pushes Bellamy towards the front door, where Finn is still banging and calling her name.</p>
<p>“Coming!” Clarke yells. She wrenches the door open, and Finn nearly falls through it, just as Bellamy picks her thong up from the floor and shoves it into his pocket. Too late, Clarke realises she’s not wearing her ring. She’s pretty sure Finn won’t notice tonight, and hopefully she can find it in the morning before he wakes up.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Finn slurs. He goes to kiss her but she pulls away, feeling Bellamy tense beside her. She wouldn’t put it past him to punch Finn in the face, even in Finn’s current condition. Finn notices him standing there. “Oh,” he says. “What are you still doing here?”</p>
<p>“I was just showing him the house,” Clarke says quickly. “He was just leaving.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to bed,” Finn says, already bored of the conversation. Clarke gulps at the thought of the messy, come-stained sheets. Nothing she can do about it now. She just has to hope Finn is drunk enough he won’t notice. He hadn’t even noticed Bellamy’s car in the driveway, so it’s not a stretch.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she says, stepping out of the way as Finn lumbers drunkenly towards the bedroom. “I’ll just see Bellamy out.”</p>
<p>Finn doesn’t respond. Clarke gestures for Bellamy to go ahead of her, and he leads the way to his car. He turns to her once they reach it.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to leave you here with him.”</p>
<p>“Bellamy—”</p>
<p>“I can’t—don’t go to bed with him. Come home with me.” She can hear the anguish in his voice. “I won’t sleep knowing you’re with him.”</p>
<p>“I can’t,” Clarke whispers.</p>
<p>“You said you were mine,” he reminds her, but she can sense he already knows her answer, and he’s clutching at straws.</p>
<p>“It’s not that simple.”</p>
<p>His voice cracks. “Don’t make me lose you again,” he whispers. Clarke drops her head, tears falling. “Clarke,” he pleads. His eyes are wet with tears now too.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Bellamy.”</p>
<p>He half laughs, but he’s crying now, and Clarke’s heart aches. She never saw him cry the first time. She reaches out to comfort him, but he jerks away before she can touch him. He pulls the car door open angrily, and gets in without another word. Clarke feels sick as he slams the door behind him. She stands in the dark driveway long after his taillights have faded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke searches the carpet for her ring in the morning, while Finn is still dead to the world, but she can’t even remember which direction Bellamy spat it in. She doesn’t know if she should make up a story to tell Finn, or wait for him to notice. She spends half an hour putting make-up over her hickeys, hating every second of it. She half wants Finn to see them, and call her out on it. But she’s not that spiteful.</p>
<p>When he gets up to groggily wander to the bathroom, she quickly strips the bed and changes the sheets before he realises it smells like sex.</p>
<p>She makes him a greasy breakfast for his hangover, and she stares across the kitchen table from him, and she feels like she’s in someone else’s body. She doesn’t miss the ring on her finger. She’s not sure if she found it she’d have the will to put it back on.</p>
<p>He must notice her rub at her bare ring finger, because he frowns across the table. She’s sure he wouldn’t have noticed had she not drawn attention to it.</p>
<p>“Where’s your ring?” he asks.</p>
<p>“I took it off to wash the dishes,” she lies easily. “It fell down the drain. I’ll have to call a plumber.”</p>
<p>He scowls. “That ring cost me a lot of money, Clarke,” he says. “You better get it back, because I’m not buying you another one.”</p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>She stands abruptly and stalks out of the room. She can’t stand to look at him a second longer.</p>
<p>She has to tell him, she knows that. It’s over, and the longer she pretends it’s not, the worse it will be. She wants to run to Bellamy and tell him she’s sorry and that she loves him and that she doesn’t ever want to leave him again.</p>
<p>She just doesn’t know how to break it to Finn. Does she tell him she cheated on him? Lay it all out, every hurtful, dirty piece of truth? Or does she soften the blow, feed him excuses so it hurts less?</p>
<p>She lies down on in the middle of their bed, and the image of Bellamy on top of her makes her lose her breath for a moment. She hadn’t slept here last night, instead had curled up on the couch, after a long shower. Somehow, being in bed with Finn would have felt like cheating on Bellamy.</p>
<p>“Did you call the plumber yet?” Finn asks, wandering into the bedroom.</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Clarke says. “It’s a Sunday, it will have to wait.”</p>
<p>“Plumbers work on Sundays if it’s an emergency.”</p>
<p>“It’s not an emergency.”</p>
<p>He huffs heading for his side of the bed. Presumably he wants to go back to sleep for a few hours.</p>
<p>“Ow, fuck!” he yells, stopping, lifting his foot off the ground, his face contorting in pain. “What the fuck is that?”</p>
<p>Clarke sits up, her heart pounding, as Finn bends down to pick up the unidentified object. Her ring glints back at her as he holds it up to the light.</p>
<p>He frowns at it. “I thought you said it went down the drain?” he says. Clarke blinks at him, waiting for him to figure it out. “How did it get to the bedroom?”</p>
<p>He finally looks at her when she still doesn’t answer. “Clarke?” he prompts. “Why’d you take it off if it wasn’t to do the dishes?” His eyes fall on the freshly changed sheets. “You changed the sheets,” he notes. Something she always does after they’ve had sex. She can see his mind whirring, going over the events of last night in his mind. She sees it click into place.</p>
<p>“You—” he starts. “Last night—”</p>
<p>“Finn,” Clarke says gently, getting to her knees.</p>
<p>“With my <em>boss</em>?” he spits. “What the fuck, Clarke?” He seems to have finally found some words. “You fucking cheated on me with my boss?”</p>
<p>He glares at her, giving her a chance to respond, to deny it.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she says simply. No chance to soften the blow now.</p>
<p>“What the fuck?” he groans. He starts pacing. “Do you know how humiliating this is? God, I knew he was looking at you that night at the bar, but I figured loads of guys were. I didn’t think either of you would <em>act </em>on it. What, were you just waiting to get away tonight so you guys could go fuck? Did he fucking seduce you over <em>mini golf?</em>”</p>
<p>Clarke swallows. “Finn…” she starts slowly. The thing is, he’s the one who doesn’t realise quite how humiliating for him it is. He thinks she met Bellamy a couple of weeks ago. Probably thinks last night was a one time thing.</p>
<p>Finn huffs, clearly not interested in hearing her explanation. “Fuck,” he groans, but he already seems to be calming down. “How the fuck am I going to look him in the face? That asshole. And everyone at work is going to think I’m a fucking joke.”</p>
<p>“Finn.”</p>
<p>“Shit.” He looks over at her. “Maybe no one has to know,” he says. Clarke shakes her head, not understanding. “Listen, what you did was wrong. But we all make mistakes. We’ve already spent so much money on the wedding. If we break up it’s going to be a whole thing.”</p>
<p>“A whole thing?” Clarke repeats dumbly.</p>
<p>“I don’t want anyone to find out you cheated on me,” Finn says. He tosses her the ring, and she catches it instinctively. “It’s embarrassing. So I say, as long as you’re not going to do it again, we forget it happened. Obviously I can’t work for Bellamy anymore, but since he fucked my fiancé I think I can convince him to give me a glowing recommendation for another magazine.”</p>
<p>It dawns on Clarke that he’s not concerned with her at all. He’s not upset that she broke his trust, not worried that she doesn’t love him or isn’t satisfied with their sex life. He only cares about his reputation.</p>
<p>“Finn!” Clarke yells, because he’s not listening. “I don’t want to forget it happened. Bellamy isn’t some random guy I cheated on you once with.”</p>
<p>Finn frowns. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“He was my first boyfriend,” Clarke says. “We broke up six years ago.”</p>
<p>“He’s your ex?” Finn says uncertainly. Clarke nods. “What the fuck.”</p>
<p>“Look, I’m sorry, Finn,” Clarke says, getting off the bed and padding over to him. “But I don’t want to marry you. You don’t care about me. You say I don’t listen to you, but you don’t listen to me either. You don’t miss me when I’m gone, you don’t think about me, you don’t love me. And I don’t love you.”</p>
<p>Finn stares at her, confused, like it’s incomprehensible. Like there’s no possible way she doesn’t love him.</p>
<p>“Clarke, come on,” he scoffs, but he’s lost all his bravado. “Are you seriously leaving me for him?”</p>
<p>“Do you seriously still want me knowing I’m in love with someone else? Doesn’t that make you even more pathetic?” She pushes the ring back into his palm.</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” he says. “Get out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She gets into her car, adrenaline pumping. She’s free of Finn. She hadn’t realised just how much their relationship had disintegrated.</p>
<p>She starts driving before she realises she doesn’t actually know where to find Bellamy. She’d been heading in the direction of the house they lived in when they were together. She has no idea if he still lives there or not, but she has no better ideas, so she keeps going. She sings along to the song in the car on the way there.</p>
<p>She pulls up to the curb in front of the house and kills the ignition. His car is in the driveway. The house looks pretty much the same, but the garden is nicer. The trees he planted seven years ago are taller.</p>
<p>Clarke gets out of the car, heart pounding, and makes her way to the front door. She picks a bunch of flowers from the garden as she passes. A red tulip, a yellow daffodil, some violets, and a sprig of forget-me-nots to add his favourite colour.</p>
<p>She steps up onto the porch and rings the doorbell, bouquet in hands. It takes him less than a second to open the door, and she wonders if he was watching her from the window. His eyes are red and weary, like he’s been up all night crying. Her gut swirls with guilt.</p>
<p>“Hi,” she says, breathless. She holds out the bouquet with her left hand. “These are for you.”</p>
<p>“Destroying my garden?” he says, raising an eyebrow. Clarke flushes. He takes the flowers from her, his fingers brushing over the empty space where her ring used to be.</p>
<p>He studies her carefully, as if he’s hardly daring to hope. “No ring?” he asks, his voice catching.</p>
<p>Clarke shakes her head. “I broke it off.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“I meant what I said, Bellamy,” she whispers. “I’m yours. I promise I’m yours.” He smiles, and Clarke’s face cracks into a grin too. “And you’re mine,” she adds.</p>
<p>“I thought that part was obvious,” he says. Clarke shakes her head. She wants to hear him say it. “I’m yours, Clarke,” he says, like it’s a vow. “I’ve never had any doubts about that.”</p>
<p>“I love you.” She surges up to kiss him. “I love you, I love you,” she murmurs against his mouth.</p>
<p>He kisses her back, pulling her inside, forget-me-nots sticking in her hair as he tangles his fingers into it, forgetting he’s holding the flowers.</p>
<p>He picks her up bridal style and carries her to the king bed, flower petals scattering across the floor as they go.</p>
<p>He lays her down on the bed like she’s something precious, and he looks at her like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He kisses her again, and she feels like she’s finally come home.</p>
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